


The way you like me

by Anonymous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic, M/M, alternative fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27720239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Stiles and Peter. Peter and Stiles. It’s got a nice ring to it. The painting would agree.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90
Collections: Anonymous





	The way you like me

“To the left.” He shakes his head. “The right now. Fourth of an in—no, fourth. _Fourth.”_

Peter scratches a mark with his 2B pencil. He’s refused to pop his claws, citing barbarianism, but then neglects to pick up the hammer and slaps the head of the nail with an open palm.

He wriggles his fingers at the newly installed painting. Stiles can hear the _ta-da_ in his head, light but gravelly, not to mention sarcastic, and absolutely drenched in malcontent.

“When I said I’d make myself available, this wasn’t what I had in mind,” Peter says.

Stiles tosses him a glossy sticker sheet. “Gold star as promised.”

“You didn’t have those before,” Peter lets it fall to his feet. He looks exasperated and kind of pissed and Stiles shouldn’t find that as addictive as he does.

Stiles crooks a finger.

“No really. Where the fuck do you keep getting these things?” Peter says, stepping over the sticker sheet.

“Don’t make me call you the D-word.”

“You hate it so much more than I do though.”

Stiles shrugs. “But I’d do it anyway just to make you make that face.”

“What face?”

Peter pauses and Stiles smirks, miming rolling his sleeves. “I have pictures. Want a skim?”

“No, and if I were you I’d keep that phone under lock and key.”

Peter shudders and continues toward the settee. It’s soft and new and plush. Great for the back and with a cover that unzips and is machine-washable.

“Relax. It’s tighter than Fort Knox,” Stiles says. “Well, in theory.”

“Darling be reasonable.” Peter closes the final stretch between them. Having a healthy dose of self esteem, Stiles still relishes that he’s grown to be at eye level with Peter. It evens the field in ways he hadn’t known to desire several years back, and present-day-Peter enthusiastically suffers its effects.

Peter lifts a hand to brush against Stiles’ cheek. “Be honest, Stiles. Do you really want to share that part of me with anyone else?”

Stiles licks his lips, hands hooking into Peter’s waistband of their own accord.

The distance is distracting. Peter is distracting. There really isn’t anything left to imagination and by now he knows all the spots that make Peter’s knees buckle and his hips cant into the air, seeking friction.

They’re all there, right at his fingertips. So he isn’t thinking about what’s being filtered and what’s not when he says, “I’d skewer them just for that,” he says. “On the spot. With needles or something. Cutlery.”

Peter goes quiet.

“Pretty sure I’d slice them to bits. I won’t need claws to do it.”

Peter’s pupils have steadily blown wide and when Stiles has finished, he inhales sharply. Stiles is abruptly reminded of his fiancé’s fetish for the animalistic and generally murderous.

“Oh,” he says, “my god. You just went from zero to rock ha—“

Peter lunges and Stiles refuses to go passively and by the time they’ve made their mess and are lying in it, both are covered in marks and then some.

Stiles sucks the rust from Peter’s fingers and the man heaves like he wants to go again but can’t.

“I realize I’ve said this before, but getting hitched to you will be anything but boring.”

“I _adore_ you.”

End.


End file.
